Some Waters Run Deep
by allaboutpeeta
Summary: This story takes place in the middle of Mockingjay – after the rescue of Peeta, Johanna, and Annie from the capitol. Finnick stays behind in District 13 with the damaged Peeta and Annie. It is a story of Finnick and Peeta and how love without boundaries heals both. Most of the story will be told from Finnick's perspective.
1. Chapter 1

About Annie

I should be happy to have her back with me safe and s… No, not sound. Safe at least. Her body is unharmed. The capitol had her in isolation, perhaps trying to figure out how to use her against me, but really against the rebellion. But what do you do with a catatonic who does not speak, hardly moves, drinks or eats only when force fed. She is so close to me now yet utterly unreachable. Back in District 4, when she disappeared into her mind, though never this far away, she used to respond to me. When no one could reach her, I was the only one who could pull her out of herself. Sometimes it took half a day, sometimes it took a week, but she would come back. She would start with brief glances in my direction. I could coax her to drink and swallow on her own. Eventually she would look straight into my eyes. If I spoke soothingly enough she would smile and close her eyes. Then she would allow me to touch her, just her hand, held lightly in mine. I learned that once she allowed my touch, she would soon begin responding to my questions. I would ask her simple things. _Annie, do you want some more water? Do you want to take a walk? Do you remember the day we swam under the stars all night?__Annie, do you know who gave you that ring?_ By the time I asked that last question, she was usually almost completely back. And each time I was so relieved, so incredibly thankful. But each time I had to go through this process, something inside me withered a little more. Maybe it was my innate optimism. The belief that problems in life could get fixed with enough effort, with enough will, with enough hope. I don't know if I have any of that left in me. Annie seems gone to me now. After weeks of trying to reach her desperately, with kindness, with firmness, with humor, with anger and then rage, she is unreachable. And I am lost. So I tie knots obsessively to hold it together, to ravel and unravel, to anchor myself. But anchor myself to what? What do I have if I don't have Annie?

About Katniss

The rebellion is going on as I sit here uselessly tying knots and visiting Annie. Coin thinks me too fragile to fight alongside the others. Most are out there contributing in some way. Katniss agreed to do the propos; Johanna and Gale are soldiers in the trenches. Beetee helps Plutarch and Coin strategize. Haymitch has kept himself semi-sober enough to help Plutarch as well, though I sense he is still mostly looking out for Katniss. I can understand why he can't completely give up alcohol. If I saddle myself with that job, I would be driven to drink as well. Katniss is unpredictable, at best. At worst, she is blinded by her stubborn will for autonomy. Katniss thinks that if she does not need anyone then she will not suffer or not suffer as much. Unfortunately for her, she loves ardently. She loves very few people, her sister, her mother, Gale, Haymitch, and Peeta. I thought her love for Peeta was a ruse to help her and him survive the games, but in the Quarter Quell arena, it became clear to me that it was not. She loves him wholly. When Peeta was rescued from the capitol and Katniss finally stopped disappearing and hiding, Plutarch commented dumbly that he didn't realize she loved him so much. I remember hearing Gale angrily mutter that she didn't just love him, that she _needed_ him. As in to survive. That must distress her greatly since it compromises her need for autonomy so much. Maybe that is the reason she seems to hate him right now. I think that is why she agreed to do the propos. She wanted to leave 13. To get away from him. I don't think she can take his hatred of her. She was so happy when he was rescued. She and I stayed up the night before they were due back. We couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't even talk. I just sat there and tied knot after knot obsessively. She tried tying some simple knots I showed her, but she tired of it soon and just started throwing a knife at the wall. She was in a rage when she was not allowed to see him for a few days once they arrived. She could not believe that she was not safe in his company. Katniss simply refused to believe that Peeta could feel any other way about her than what he always feels– pure and unconditional love. She finally had to believe it when he tried to strangle her in their first meeting. She was so shocked to have a Peeta who was not _her_ Peeta. At first she directed all of her anger at the capitol. They destroyed Peeta's mind. They killed something else she loved. She didn't participate in the efforts to rehabilitate him. She was too much of a trigger for his hijacked mind. Sweet Prim is helping Peeta mostly, as is Mrs. Everdeen. I think Katniss tried meeting with Peeta a few times, once she was told Peeta could stand to see her without harming her, although he was in restraints for safety. I don't think those conversations went very well because Katniss refused to talk about them afterward. She looked empty, void of all hope. She refused to tell doctors and even Prim what Peeta said to her. But it must have been something she could not handle, because soon after she agreed to join Coin's efforts in the war. I'm afraid for her now. I'm glad she still has Prim and her mother, and Gale to some extent too. But I think something has died in Katniss too. Something even Prim cannot give her. Something only Peeta can… could give her. She cannot see her goodness reflected back in his regard anymore. If you love, no need, someone who hates you. What do you have?

About Peeta

I can still see him under the bruised and pale face, under the scowl and wary gaze. I have gone to his room to see him a few times. After exhausting myself with Annie, just trying to get some reaction from her, to no avail. I go to see Peeta because for some reason I need to. I don't know why. I feel bad and anxious for him. I guess I feel like Katniss abandoned him. After practically falling apart because he was taken by the capitol, when he is rescued, she bails because it is too much for her. This makes me angry. Katniss is so strong, but in some ways she is very weak. She is weak when it comes to Peeta. She can save him only when she can be the strong one. She can clean him up and take him to safety when he's near death. She can fight and risk her life to get him medicine. She can improvise a brilliant plan to save them both and defy the system. But she cannot save him or even attempt to save him when she is no longer the luminary in his eyes. She cannot bear to be exposed by him. She cannot bear to see her weaknesses reflected back to her by Peeta, whom she holds in the highest regard. She can't get past her own self pity to help him. Instead she chooses to hate him. As if he is somehow responsible for his hatred of her, as if he's responsible that she is human and not the perfect Katniss that has seen reflected back to her in Peeta's eyes. But he is not responsible for his new and awful feelings for Katniss. He has been violated, infected by a virus of hate so forceful and so opposite of his true nature that his very survival is at stake. Because Peeta cannot help that his brain was altered. Any more that he can help that his leg was amputated. But I see what Katniss cannot see. You can take his leg but Peeta is unaltered. Peeta is still here. When I first spoke to him I saw him. I saw _him_. When I asked him questions, _Peeta, how do you feel? Are you sleeping well?__Do you want some food? _The way he fists his hands to try to control the shaking, the way he looks down before he responds to my stupid inane questions because he's trying to respond normally and not like someone who's been chained to a wall in a dark room for months, the way he slumps when I leave because he thinks he's not making any progress. That is Peeta, suffering through the pain, through the struggle to get back, to truly return, for Katniss. I can only assume it's for Katniss because he's lost everyone else he loved. So I go back to see him every day because I start needing to go back. Too see him. To support him. To help him. I think my visits help him. He starts responding with more than just one or two words. I stop the questions and just talk to him. I tell him about my days here in 13. What I thought about it when I first arrived, how shitty the food is. I tell him about the truly great food in District 4. The fresh fish, sweet clams, tender octopus. I tell him about Annie because he asks. I share my frustrations about it all and I can see that it makes him sad for me and for Annie. He listens intently, never interrupting me. He nods his head imperceptibly every few minutes. And I know it is because he is trying very hard to focus on my words and stay in the moment, in this conversation even as his hijacked brain is fighting the intrusion of horrible images and thoughts implanted by the capitol. And I can't help but reach out to gently touch his hand that is resting lightly on his bed today because I want him to see that I am grateful that he does care about me and Annie even as he goes through the hell that has become his life. He can still allow himself to feel compassion. I sensed more than felt him tense when I touched him, but he did not pull away. He allowed me to rest my hand over his. I left it there awhile because his was cold and I wanted to warm him, even that little bit. And he looked up at me and I thought he almost smiled.

Note: This story will contain multiple chapters. Reviews encouraged and will prompt the story along ; ). My first fan fiction, so bear with me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I've been visiting Peeta for a few weeks now. I have a routine that has replaced the monotonous knot tying. I have breakfast. I visit Annie. I eat lunch. I visit Peeta until the attendant interrupts with his dinner, then I leave to go eat with the others. Sometimes I go to the gymnasium to try to exhaust myself so I can sleep. Sometimes I go straight to my room and tie my knots until I can fall asleep. I'm lonely now that Johanna, Katniss and the others are gone. Johanna used to visit me daily to keep me connected. Mostly she just gave me a hard time or complained about Plutarch or Coin. She especially liked to ridicule Coin and the stick up her ass, making countless sexual innuendos about her and Plutarch and imaginary scenarios that never failed to make me laugh. Now she's off fighting somewhere. I don't know how she does it, to hold it together. She's so strong. I suppose she has no other choice. Katniss wouldn't visit me, but I'd see her sometimes during mealtimes, on the days she wasn't hiding out somewhere. She was not much company but she was a familiar face at least. The victors and Plutarch and some other higher-ups here eat meals apart from the rest of the citizens. We also get a small individual room instead of an assigned spot in the general living quarters that others share. I suppose it is for safety as well as our privacy. Victor's are weird people, what with the screams, hallucinations, drunken stupors, or obsessive behaviors; we don't integrate well with others. Everyone with a room shares the set of private bathrooms, which is a nice perk and quite a luxury here in 13. Besides that, we get no other privileges. We eat the same quantity and quality of tasteless food. It's really more like nutrition than food; I can't recognize any of it. A lot of it looks like oatmeal to me, or some unidentifiable meat substance, but it is supposed to contain the protein, vitamins and minerals we need. So I consume it automatically, with no enjoyment. It could be worse. I can always be worse.

Annie is the same, but Peeta is getting better I think. He has started to eat dinner with the rest of us on occasion. He does ok, mostly just eats and doesn't talk much, mostly just looks like he's day dreaming or lost in thought. He responds when Haymitch or I speak to him, but seems to have a hard time maintaining eye contact. I think he is self-conscious and afraid he'll have an episode in front of us. Surprisingly, Haymitch is gentle with him, not his usual flippant, rude and obnoxious self. I guess he saves most of that for Katniss. Despite his progress, Peeta keeps a tight rein on himself. I notice how white his knuckles are when he grips his spoon so tightly or how his good leg shakes up and down almost imperceptibly or how he startles ever time someone comes up behind him. Sometimes I have to swallow the knot in my throat. I've become too sentimental lately. I wish I was more like Johanna or even Katniss who understand there is no place here for such a useless emotion. Better to get angry and kill something. Today, I really don't want to be alone and I ask Peeta if he wants to go with me to the gymnasium. He hesitates and I can sense he is going to turn me down, so I tell him that I need company. That does the trick and he agrees to go for a little while. We practice swinging ourselves across some bars, pulling weights with a rope, throwing heavy balls toward a target. Peeta decides to try walking the balance beams and is pretty good at it, even with his bad leg. When he gets across a particularly difficult one, he turns, his chest heaving, and gives me a big smile. He looks so painfully young at that moment. I can't help but give him a goofy grin and a thumbs up. Johanna would have rolled her eyes. Afterward, when we are walking back to our rooms, I can't stop myself from blurting out an idea I've been contemplating for awhile.

"Peeta, are you still having nightmares or episodes at night?" I ask tentatively.

"Every night" He says softly and then abruptly turns to look at me. "Why? Can you hear me? Am… am I disturbing your sleep?" He looks at me alarmed.

"No!" I reach my hand out to place it on his arm reassuringly, but then stop myself. "No, I just wondered. It must be hard to get rest. You look exhausted a lot."

Peeta's gaze shifts from me to the floor. "Yeah. It's harder when I can't shake myself out of it… when I can't wake myself up."

I'm quiet, trying to figure out how to say what I want to say next, but he continues. I can see his brow furrow.

"Sometimes my body is paralyzed. I know I'm awake but I can't move or open my eyes and the images just keep coming. When that happens, I usually make myself stay awake the rest of the night so it won't happen again."

His gaze turns to me again. That's the most he's said to me in one breath since he got to 13. I blurt out my next question without further thought. "Do you think it would help if I slept in your room?"

Peeta looks at me, eyebrow raised. I quickly clarify. "I mean, I could sleep _on the floor_ in your room. Then I'd be able to wake you up, you know? So the episodes don't last longer than they have to."

I wait. Peeta appears to be considering my idea. He looks down at his feet as we continue to walk.

"That's kind of you to offer, but I can't let you to do that. That's a lot. I mean, then _you_ wouldn't get much rest." He looks at me as he says this, smiling sadly.

"It's not like I get much sleep now anyway, between my knot tying." I say lamely. I don't know how to explain myself to him but I try. "I want to do it. I mean…It's hard to explain, but … I feel like I need to do it, you know? Maybe it's because I can't help Annie. I just need to feel useful somehow. So in a way, you'd be helping me too."

Peeta stops walking. "So, you want to me like my nanny?" He smiles softly, his eyes teasing.

I smirk at him. "Uh, no! I'm manly, so more like your guard, a hijack repellent… your liberator of bad dreams… your…" Peeta interrupts me with a snort.

"OK, don't get carried away." He rolls his eyes as he resumes walking ahead. I move to walk along side him again.

"So how about it? I'll bring a pallet.

"Would this make you feel better?" He glances skeptically at me from under his too-long bangs, curling now from perspiration.

"Infinitely," I respond as I stop in front of the door to my room. I wait for his reply. He walks on to the door next to mine and turns to me then.

"OK, Finnick, if you really want to." He says with a sigh.

"Yeah? Alright…OK. I'll see you tonight then." Why am I so pleased that he's agreed to this?

"Sure." He says as he enters his room. I almost don't hear him mutter, "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

**Note: This story will contain multiple chapters. Reviews encouraged and will prompt the story along ; )**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It is indeed a bad night. Unfortunately for Peeta, all the screaming is coming from my corner of the room. I wake to the sounds of my own cries and a hundred jabberjay wings flapping furiously, Annie's shrieks splitting the air. _Finnick! Finnick!_ She's everywhere and I can't see her. My arms flail like loose sails in a storm. I can see nothing in the pitch black, but I hit something or someone and then my arms are anchored forcefully to my body and a weight immobilizes my legs. I panic then because I cannot fight and I begin to hyperventilate. I'm wearing down and then I hear his voice calling to me. It's Peeta. Peeta and not Annie. My eyes adjust to the dim light and I see there are no jabberjays, only lifeless shadows. I see Peeta's face inches from my own. In the dark, his eyes are large and cerulean, as unfathomable as the sea. His mouth is moving, shaping words and I have to concentrate on the movement of his lips before I can comprehend what he is saying. _It's OK.__I'm here with you.__Finnick?__Can you hear me?__Annie's OK.__Annie is fine._ Over and over he says these words. His voice oddly calm despite the fear in his eyes. I blink repeatedly trying to clear my head and feel moisture saturating my lashes and seeping down to my ears. My breathing calms and I finally notice the painful grip of Peeta's hands on my wrists. The weight of his body on my chest making it hard to breath. I tell him in the calmest tone I can manage that I'm ok, but I have to repeat myself several times before he believes me. He nods his head and releases my wrists. One arm moves to rest on the floor beside me and he lifts half his body off of me. His other hand moves to cup the side of my face. _You're OK._ It sounds like a question now, so I nod my head. He moves slowly off of me and slumps to the side. He looks shaken and I'm sorry to have made him look that way. So I tell him.

"I'm sorry." I say. He looks at me, relief in his eyes.

"It's ok. I'm glad you're here and not alone." He responds. It hits me then why I'm on the floor, in Peeta's room. I'm suddenly embarrassed, so I revert to what I know best.

"Really? Because I'm supposed to be here for _you_." I turn to him with a winning grin, trying stupidly to change the mood, regain some control. "Not a great first night on the job." But my lame effort at charm is forced and Peeta doesn't respond to it. He's lying on his side facing me. I can just make out his gaze focused somewhere far outside this room.

"We all have them… the nightmares or flashbacks." He says softly.

"I guess. Tonight was jabberjays for me. Compliments of the quarter quell games." I say sarcastically.

"Katniss has them too." He says, his gaze turning to me. "It used to help her to sleep with me. I… I mean, to sleep in the same bed with me." I can't see it but I bet he's blushing as he says this and I'm struck by his purity even after all he's been through, all he's seen. And I wonder how the essential part of him can remain so untouched, so unsoiled. I think of Prim, but unlike Peeta, she was saved from the horrors of the games. I think of Annie. She wasn't spared the games and she's unsoiled, but she's not Annie any more.

"Annie doesn't have nightmares." I say. "She sleeps like a babe. I think she's managed to escape the nightmares, the memories. But, she's escaped everything else too."

"She'll get better, Finnick." The way he says it, I almost believe it, but it's getting harder to believe in good things.

"I don't know. This might be the time she doesn't come back." I say.

"She's here. She's not … present, but she's here. You just have to show her a way back home." Peeta says earnestly.

"We're too far from home." I reply. I'm being purposely obtuse, indulging myself in self pity. Maybe I just want him to keep comforting me.

"Not in our minds," he says. "We can be anywhere in our minds."

I guess he would know this better than anyone. How minds can be changed. Memories recreated. Is that what happened to Annie's mind? No, she wasn't hijacked like Peeta.

"Maybe" I say tiredly. Is Annie choosing to go away? Her absence doesn't seem like her choice, any more than my flashbacks are my choice. But maybe she can come back, with help, like Peeta is coming back.

He turns to lie on his back and I can hear his steady breathing in the stillness. I feel myself drifting off, my body limp now after all the exertion. I don't know if I fall asleep for a minute or an hour but I'm surprised to wake to the sound of Peeta's voice.

"It's during the hardest times where we have no choice but to continue. We have to just… keep going… just keep living. There is no choice. No other choice."

**AN: I hope someone is reading this and wants more. I have to tell you I'm enjoying writing this story. I'm kind of compelled to explore the transcendent nature of Peeta. I love seeing him through the eyes of Katniss, but I find myself wanting more. I hope seeing Peeta through the more worldly eyes of Finnick helps shed more light for some of us who are so drawn to this character. And yes, I think there will be physical closeness for these two, though I'm going to try hard to stay within character. That's all I'll say. So, let me know if you're out there and what you think. Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

From Peeta's Mind

"Hey kid, pass me the bowl of brown mush there will you?"

I'm brought back to the present and it takes me a little too long to register Haymitch's request before I tentatively reach for the nearest bowl of food to slide over to him. I keep my eyes downcast, but I can see Haymitch as he slumps in his seat, looking like he just crawled out of bed in that same rumpled, stained pair of standard issue pants and shirt he never seems to change. He wears a large ugly green-grey sweater that is too large. Strands of greasy long ash-blond hair poke out from under his brown knit beanie.

"No, the _other _bowl of brown mush, the one with those little brown beans. "

At this, I look up and meet his eyes. He is the picture of weary indifference with his ever present smirk, but his eyes are startlingly intense in contrast. He looks thinner and gaunt and this thought surprises me - that I notice those details of what was then and what is now. I look for the food he describes and slide it across. He serves himself a big dollop as he mutters to no one in particular that at least he _hopes_ those are beans. Something flickers in my mind and I almost laugh. I must make some sound because he looks up at me then and smirks. I return to stare at my food but that doesn't hold my attention any longer so I look around the table and see Finnick speaking quietly to a red haired woman sitting next to him. I realize the woman is Annie. She looks surprisingly well, like a doll that's been kept on the shelf for safe keeping and not for play like the rest of us who are now tattered and hardly recognizable. Her face is strangely serene and she doesn't seem to recognize where she is, but she does seem to respond to Finnick's voice, turning to him when he speaks to her. Seems she is making some progress. Finnick looks absorbed, but he must feel my gaze because he turns to look in my direction and smiles broadly, obviously happy. I try to smile, but it feels forced so I look back at my plate. I swallow a sudden tightness in my throat. Why is love so hard won? Why do we have to fight so hard for it or wait so long for just a small bit of it? I fought for my mother's love all my life but never won it. And now she's dead, along with the rest of my family. My father, the only one who showed me love, at least when he could sneak it past her, is gone now. But his love came with shame too, because it felt like we had to hide it like a bad thing, like a weakness. But I took whatever crumbs were thrown my way, I was so starved. My mother saw that as my biggest weakness. _Silly needy boy_, a_lways with your head in the clouds. You need to be more of a man and stop your ridiculous drawings. No one will ever want you if you can't make a living for yourself._ I remember thinking that I couldn't wait to grow up and have a family of my own. Then I would give them all the love stored inside. When I was rescued from the capitol, Prim was one of the first to visit me. She started to tell me stories she remembered about me - how I was well liked in school, how I competed in wrestling, how I was so friendly to all the customers at the bakery, seam or merchant. I never told her, but I was grateful for her stories filling in the gaps in my broken mind or sometimes, like with a key, opening up the locked spaces that hid whole intact memories, feelings, smells, emotions. Sometimes I cried because I was so overcome and she simply sat with me with no judgment, no shame. One day she told me a story of how I had loved her sister from afar for a long time. At first that idea enraged me and triggered an episode. When I think about that story now, I feel profound sadness, like a well with no bottom. I could cry a million tears but never fill it, never be done. Prim said she thought that Katniss loved me back but couldn't see it yet. I don't know if that part is true, but I do know that I am not, nor will I ever be, the same boy who loved her that way again.

I force my mind back to the present. I don't want to go down this path again. It is well worn. I'm about to try a bite of what I think is a small potato when the TV monitors sound an announcement from the capitol. I instinctively turn around, transfixed by the familiar music that accompanies news. Then I see _her_. Standing in the midst of an angry crowd. She is wearing a strange black shiny suit, her hair is loose, different, but it is certainly her with a signature black bow and shiny metal arrows strapped behind her. She is shouting something to a crowd and then to the cameras because she is looking straight at me now. I feel my body tense, my mind slipping and I stand abruptly, but I must stand too quickly because I feel like I'm about to fall. Then I hear a gunshot. Then more shots and I'm on the ground trying to escape the sounds. Did she shoot me? Did she finally shoot me like she wanted to the last day in our first arena? But then I think, no, she uses arrows and those were gun shots. I am paralyzed with a mixture of intense relief and fear. I feel the cold wave of adrenaline wash through me. Maybe it is over, finally over. I sense commotion around me and I faintly hear Haymitch yelling to someone to turn that damn thing off. Then everything goes black.

I wake up in my bed later to the sound of beeping and the sight of an IV strapped to my arm, but there are no restraints. The room is dim and quiet except for a soft snore. I turn to see Finnick slumped and sleeping in an armchair near the right wall. I feel rested but my body is sore and stiff. I watch Finnick sleep for a while, then gaze at the ceiling and try to empty my mind, think of nothing, feel nothing, become nothing. The next time I wake, it is to Finnick's shadowed face hovering inches from mine. I hear whimpering. He is shaking me gently, whispering for me to wake up, that it is only a nightmare. I realize the whimpering is coming from me right before a sob racks through my body and the tears spill over my face. I look to him as if to ask the question. Why? Oh God, Why? My body spasms and I feel him pull me up into an embrace. I hold on to him to stay afloat as the waves of grief threaten to pull me under. I feel him pulling me to him, tighter, tighter. I am only vaguely aware of what he is saying to me, words of comfort, calming words. I lose sense of time, of how long I cry like this. I come back to the moment when I feel him pull away and I instinctively fist the front of his shirt in panic. I look to him like a child that can't be abandoned, not again. He smiles gently and tells me he is not going anywhere.

"I just didn't want to keep crushing you."

In the darkness, his face looks wet too and I wonder if those are my tears or his. I touch his cheek to feel the wet, to feel the real. But when I look at my hand, the wet is too shiny and slick and I begin to slip. I am Not-Peeta. I am fragments of a motherless child, an accidental victor, a lover-boy with no lover. I am disappearing. And here I can let go. I can finally let go.


End file.
